Beadle's Dime Novels No. 94: The Mad Skipper — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

16 THE MAD SKIPPER. San Carlos and ruined my business, completely. Is your pulse regular?” . “ Sir?” : “Your pulse—is it regular, and do you sleep well—and is your appetite good ?” “Oh, yes.” “ Are you sure? If not, I have a pill here,” and he took a little box from his pocket—“ which will regulate every thing at once. It is my own invention. I have been four years compounding it to my satisfaction, It will cure all diseases except consumption.” “A valuable medicine. I shall certainly let you know if I should happen to feel unwell.” “ How is your pulse ?” inquired the doctor, turning to the dwarf. “ My daughter said she thought you looked ill.” “ Him say so ?” “Yes, Ah! he continued, as the warm blood rushed to the dark face, “ your pulse is not right. I pérceive you are subject to hot flushes. You must take one of these pills im- ~ mediately.” “No, thank you; me feel very well.” | “You are mistaken, my friend,” said the doctor, as he felt of the other’s wrist. “ Your pulse is not regular. You will ‘have a fever unless you swallow a pill. Here it is—take it.” The dwarf reluctantly obeyed, declaring that the pill tasted exactly like a crumb of gingerbread. The night-shadows were creeping into the room when the good-natured doctor quitted it, carefully locking the door after him and putting the key in his pocket. In compliance with his wishes, the two seamen, sitting nearly motionless upon the chest, spoke in whispers when they felt a desire to con- verse—a precaution necessary to prevent the old woman, who had now returned, from suspecting their presence in the house. They could hear her voice in the room below, and its sharp, impatient tones seemed to proclaim that she had met with some heavy disappointment. Such, indeed, was the fact; for, as the “ vigilantes” had not succeeded in finding the de- serters, she had not gained the expected reward. At ten o’clock she retired, in no enviable frame of. crs Turaing to his daughter, seated near him in a back room | mes poem, te GOm)